


Investigate, Explore, Analyze

by frozenCinders



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: You're an author with a few connections and a knack for psychology and you, of course, plan to write a book on the subject. You think interviewing an infamous criminal who faked his way through his psych test would add a lot to write. This is what gave you the more dangerous than brilliant idea to go see Solf J. Kimblee in person.Character study entirely inspired by the Netflix series Mindhunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ever since starting mindhunter at the same time as rewatching fmab, i haven't been able to get somewhat of a crossover out of my mind. with kimblee being my favorite character (surprise surprise), i thought he'd make a perfect subject.
> 
> regarding mindhunter, i recommend it only if you are 18 or older, and i'd also like to warn that you might not get hooked until around episode 3.

"Sign this."

"Um...-"

"It's a legal form relieving the government from responsibility should you suffer injury or death within the facility, caused by an inmate."

Your mind goes blank and you falter for a moment as reality hits you. Just what was it you decided to do? Yet you sign your name as instructed.

"If you're really gonna be doing this, might I recommend starting small? Did you really have to pick that crazy motherfucker and not someone who got put away for- I don't know, there's a guy who offed his ex-wife a few cells down from him," the jailer says, sounding more like he's making small talk than anything else as he escorts you into the prison.

"He passed his psych test and kept his... let's say "true self" completely under the radar up until the very end. I find it interesting how sociopaths know exactly what we want to hear."

"Shit, there's gotta be twenty lunatics who faked their psych tests in here. You sure you wanna start with him," he more says in disbelief than actually asks.

"He has been told that I'm arriving to interview him, yes?" you confirm, remembering that this isn't being done on impulse; you'd already resolved to do it for the sake of your research.

"Yeah, he's thrilled about it."

"Then..."

"You really think you have to give a damn about disappointing this guy?" he asks, aggressive. "Let me tell you something. He's got no family- certainly no friends. He's never gotten a visitor except just one, a little while after he first got put away. Even that was just a military official."

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate the company, then."

"Think that'll make him more compliant?" The jailer stopped walking and has now turned to face you, a single hand moving in a near condescending but explanatory manner to you as he continues talking. "He says whatever the fuck he wants and I have never heard of him regretting a single thing he's said or done, but I can tell you right now not to expect anything useful out of him. My money's on: you go in there, he makes nice like he's gonna tell you everything, you realize halfway through some ridiculous story he's telling you that he's played you like a fiddle and you walk out of that room with him laughing like a maniac behind you."

You gently recoil, mostly for show but still a little stunned.

"Wow. Straight out of a movie," you say, tone casual but inoffensive. The jailer seems to think you're sassing him anyway; something you've learned to recognize.

"If this were a movie, the bad guy would have died a long time ago."

With that, the jailer leads you the rest of the short walk to the room the prisoner you're there to meet is waiting in. It's empty, save for several guards along the walls and one person with long hair sitting hunched over at one of the tables. On hearing the door open, he perks up but doesn't look over his shoulder. The jailer waits outside, plenty visible through the bars to the room, as you enter.

You expect him to greet you, but this silence feels powerful somehow. You need to be the one to break it first.

"Solf J. Kimblee?"

He turns in his seat and smiles at you. You consider what to say next.

A joke? "Well, at least I've got the right guy" could go over well. No, your gut tells you to get straight to business.

"I am an au-"

"An author who wants to interview me for a book, I'm aware. Are you going to sit?"

He's still smiling. The feel he gives is equal parts feral and courteous- an odd combination. You sit across from him, more than glancing at his hands, slightly suspended as the large wooden cuffs rest on the table. He thinks you're looking at his palms and turns them up for you to see.

"Is this necessary?" you ask, pointing at the cuffs and looking around. The jailer waiting outside scoffs incredulously. You gesture with a hand and a brow rather than repeat yourself, and the jailer begrudgingly lets himself into the room.

He glowers as he walks over, not once looking at Kimblee as he unlocks his cuffs. Your eyes return to Kimblee and you guess that he's been staring at you the whole time. You can't read any shock from him, but he's openly appreciative as he touches his wrists. The guards around the room seem more on edge now, as if they expect him to pounce. You've done your research; you know that with those tattoos on his palms, he can use alchemy regardless of whether his hands can touch each other or not. You're in the same amount of danger as before, really.

"Very kind of you," he says in thanks. He folds his hands in front of him and straightens up, now that he knows you're talking to him as a person more than as a prisoner.

"What are you researching about me?" he asks. "Are you interested in my alchemy?"

"No, actually. I'm interested in you."

He laughs- it's raspy and sounds like...

"Excuse me, do you... Would you like a drink?" you ask.

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

The jailer moves his head in a way that clearly indicates to you that he's rolling his eyes as he walks away. Hopefully, he'll be coming back.

"Anyway, uh, I'm actually studying... let's say, articulate...-"

"Madmen?" he guesses while you try to find a less offensive word. You sigh a little.

"With all due respect... sociopaths."

"Well, I appreciate the "articulate" part, at least," he jokes.

"The book I'm writing is nonfiction and is meant to be educational. Your name doesn't have to appear in it if you don't want it to."

He nods.

"I have a lot of questions, but I don't expect to have them all answered today; I thought I'd come back and sort of... You don't mind multiple interviews, do you?"

"Not at all. Do I seem like I have anything better to do?"

"Right. Well, the first thing I'd like to know is: how exactly did you manage to pass your military psychological evaluation? Did you... have assistance? Did you find it too easy?"

"Too easy... something like that. More like too predictable, really."

The jailer is coming back now and you spare him a glance as Kimblee continues talking.

"It was obvious what they wanted to hear. If I knew what the right answer was, there was no point in disregarding it for honesty."

"But did you-"

The jailer places the plastic cup on the table none too gently, and purposely out of Kimblee's reach. You mentally jot that down as a microaggression in case you end up writing a piece on how prisoners are treated as well.

You grab the drink and move it closer to Kimblee, who seems amused by your actions, as you continue talking after that pause. He thanks you quietly and drinks while you talk.

"Did you entirely disagree with the answers you gave? Did you think to yourself, "none of this is me," or did you answer honestly for some of them?"

"Let me ask you something. Have you ever taken a psych test?"

"... No, I haven't."

"You know, they have you describe yourself using ten adjectives."

"As one of the tests?"

"Yes, and I remember my answers very clearly."

"Please, do tell," you encourage, taking out a notepad and clicking your pen.

"They told me to describe myself through the eyes of a peer. I said "intelligent, driven, reasonable, powerful-"

"Sounds like you have quite the ego."

"-merciless, uncompromising, unwavering, careful, obedient, aware." Then they said to describe myself from an enemy's point of view and I said "the same.""

"You think your allies see you the same way your enemies do?"

"They asked me about that. I told them that I don't treat anyone differently unless I'm attacking them on orders or showing respect to a superior. I said I don't get close to people and so, I'm essentially impossible to betray."

"That might have read that you don't play well with others, how did-"

"That was after I'd already shown I'm typically quite cooperative. I mean, hey," he pauses to shrug more with his arms than his shoulders, "look how cooperative I'm being right now."

You finish writing down the adjectives he'd listed, noting "same for friends and enemies" in quick, sloppy writing, very conscious of how much time it takes.

"They would have given you a questionnaire, right?" you asked to continue the interview.

"Yes. That one was lacking a lot of nuance."

"Nuance?"

"You asked me earlier if I agreed with some of my answers. It's more that I thought, "yeah, I could respond like that, if I thought the situation warranted it." Things like that."

You note "lack of nuance" as a reminder to go more into detail later.

"And what are some examples of answers that were entirely lies?"

He remains silent but his smile is still there. He's still holding the now empty cup in his hands and you see a flash of light- unmistakably alchemy. At once, every guard in the room has guns pointed at Kimblee. He slowly raises his hands into the air, revealing his work. He's reshaped the plastic cup into a little bird.

The jailer angrily strides in and grabs Kimblee roughly. He stands him up and cuffs him and Kimblee is awfully cooperative through it all, still smiling away.

"That's enough for one day. Call the bomb squad, see if he did anything to that cup before you throw it out."

Right. Kimblee specializes in explosive alchemy.

"I recommend you find the door before that thing does any damage," the jailer tells you as he escorts Kimblee back to his cell, a hand fisted in the back of his shirt. Kimblee turns slightly and waves to you.

You're still sitting in front of it, stunned and a little confused. You've always been quick on the uptake, however, and you surmise that Kimblee didn't want to answer your last question, so he did something he knew would cut the interview short.

You stand and carefully move around the table, keeping your eyes on the seemingly harmless plastic bird. You manage to leave the prison without incident and wonder if he'll even be willing to see you again if you return.

Before that, however, the jailer's advice that Kimblee might not be truthful pops back into your head. You'll need to follow up on some of the information he gave you. You'll rewrite the list of adjectives in neater handwriting and give it to a friend in Central who can find his files. You still plan to take everything with a grain of salt if you can, but if he told the truth about the list, at least, that could inspire confidence.


	2. Chapter 2

After having confirmed that the list Kimblee gave you last time lined up with the information in his file, you felt as comfortable as you were going to get about coming back. Now, standing in front of the prison again, you're a little intimidated. He already agreed to see you again, so hopefully he's in the mood to talk after last time.

The same jailer leads you to the same room- you learn his name is Mike this time. As abrasive as he can seem, you're beginning to feel like he's someone you can rely on here, which is massively important to preventing yourself from chickening out midway through.

Kimblee's happy to see you, just like last time. He seems to have disregarded the alchemy incident, if not forgotten. You don't ask.

"So... as much as I'd like more information on the psych test..."

You're saying it to test the waters, but he's unreadable.

"I'll save that for another time, maybe. For now, let's move onto another topic- still more of your past. How about your family?"

"My family."

"Yes. How they treated you, how you felt about them, anything that could've-"

"When I was around 10 years old, my little brother was kidnapped."

"Really..?" you breathe, leaning in. "Were you close to your brother? Forgive me, but I imagine you didn't manage to get him back considering..."

"Hey, he could have died of natural causes," Kimblee jokes. "But yeah, my parents didn't have anything to ransom him with."

"How did this affect your relationship with your parents? You became an only child from this, right? Did you hate them, convinced they could have done something?"

Mike is at the table now, suddenly.

"Hate to break the illusion, but there's no record of Kimblee ever having had siblings. Certainly no kidnapping incident."

"Aw, so soon?" Kimblee laughs.

Oh. You blink a few times, looking between Mike and Kimblee, before leaning back and crossing out everything you'd written.

"Alright. Is that out of your system now?" you ask, hoping it was a one-time thing; maybe a test that you undoubtedly failed.

"Sure."

"So... family?"

"Eh," he seems disinterested, "call us estranged."

"They're still alive, then?" You look to Mike for confirmation, but he's walking away to lean against the wall again.

"Probably."

"So who... instigated the estrangement? Was it you, your parents, something beyond anyone's control..?"

"What do you think happened?"

"... Is it something obvious?"

"I didn't say that. I wanna hear your best guess."

"My best guess..."

You think for a moment.

"Alright. Your parents didn't want you to join the military- you did anyway. They were upset with you and decided not to talk to you for a while. But, soon enough, they gave up and came crawling back, or at least tried to. You just weren't having it; you ignored all their attempts at contacting you not really out of spite so much as... disinterest. You had nothing to gain from talking to them."

He closes his eyes, brows raised and an amused smile on his face.

"So, am I in the ballpark?"

Kimblee only makes a noncommittal sound.

"You're not going to tell me what really happened, are you?"

"I think this profile you've built of me already is impressive," he compliments, avoiding your question entirely. "True or not, it sounds like something I might do."

"Well, as a writer and someone who is... as interested in psychology as I am, I have a habit of getting into people's heads and just sort of... looking around in there."

You weren't sure what that meant, exactly, or why you actually said that out loud.

"Tell me... are you going to base a character in one of your books off me?"

"Well, intentionally or not, that could easily happen. There could be similarities, I could toss in some dialogue that you've actually said... I mean, it could happen regarding anyone."

"Do you interview just anyone?"

"... Uh, no. You're the only one so far, but if I manage to find someone just as interesting, then..."

You shrug, tapping your pen against the table a few times. He seems satisfied by your answer, and maybe a little flattered. Or just smug in general.

"What about you? What's your family situation?" Kimblee asks. You're about ready to answer when Mike puts a hand on your shoulder and gestures for you to follow him away from the table.

"Look. I would not confide  _anything_  personal in him. Parents, siblings, spouse, friends- they should all remain unnamed and undescribed. I mean," he raises his hands, "your call. But that's my recommendation."

And he lets you go back to your seat.

"I, um. I don't have an interesting family situation," you decide on.

"Is Mike telling you not to answer my questions now?"

"I'm deciding to take his recommendation in good faith, yeah. But, I mean, like I said. Not particularly interesting."

"Tell me, what's your favorite creation from one of your books?"

You pause, a little confused.

"Uh, this interview isn't about me, it's..."

"But you know so much about me. Let's get closer to each other." He's leaning forward now as he says that.

Based on behavioral patterns, you would have expected Mike to push Kimblee back and tell him to back off. If he hadn't already moved away from the two of you again, that is. Without his interference, you're at a bit of a loss.

"I think that's enough for today," you say, standing. This makes him laugh.

"Thanks for entertaining me again," he says, and the words make sense but you know he's insulting you. You're not sure how to react.

"Anytime."

And he laughs again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the support so far! it hasn't been very long at all yet so i'm especially glad people like the story already.

' _Articulate and reasonable.'_

_'I can estimate that he's graceful under pressure and can read people well.'_

_'Might lie for fun occasionally.'_

You look over your notes, trying to think of anything to add. Then you realize you have no idea how he feels about his situation. Just that one little detail could provide valuable insight.

Your friend in Central, Sherry, had gotten back to you about Kimblee's family, confirming that he had no siblings. Maybe he wanted one. Maybe he likes the idea of having some small inherent authority over someone, like that which comes with being an older brother. Based on his personality, you think he would prefer one sibling over many and would be fairly fond of them- just not to the point of them becoming a weakness.

But brainstorming anything but questions you can ask him isn't realistically going to get you anywhere. So you call up the prison again.

When you arrive, you immediately start looking around for Mike.

"God forbid you're two minutes late," Mike grumbles, turning a corner into your view. "Now you've got him asking for you."

"Good. It's good that he's eager," you say with honesty. Mike looks at you like you just told an awful joke.

"He thinks you're his friend. Don't go reciprocating," he warns.

When you enter the meeting room, Kimblee greets you, smiling as usual. You offer a tiny smile back, as well as a quick wave with two fingers as you go over your notes again.

"Alright, instead of focusing on one topic this time, I'd like to ask you a few smaller questions."

"Ask away," he encourages, placing his hands- cuffed again- on the table. You look at them and the thought crosses your mind that he's silently asking you to have them removed again. However, with all of Mike's complaining, you do feel the need to assert that you won't always just do whatever he wants. That, and the alchemy incident makes asking worthless.

"Alright, this one is pretty simple. Last time, you talked about a brother you never had. But did you want one?"

Kimblee interlaces his fingers as best he can with them barely able to reach each other.

"Not particularly. I doubt I would have been close with any siblings, and I enjoyed being an only child."

You're imperceptibly- at least, you hope so- taken aback by this. It's the opposite of what you predicted. Though, if he were predictable, you suppose he'd be less dangerous.

"What about..." You look through the pages to refresh your memory. "Do you think you work well under pressure?"

"Yes. I've never had a problem doing so."

"I thought so..."

At least you got that right.

"Unrelated, but I've been meaning to ask. Do you regret what you did to get stuck here? Killing your superiors?"

"No, I don't," he says with ease. "The situation called for it."

"What situation?"

"They had given me a Philosopher's Stone. I liked the power it granted, so when they asked for it back, I killed them."

It's incredible how unfazed he is, saying something like that.

"And... where is the Stone now?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mike shaking his head.

"No one knows," Kimblee says, jovially.

"But you do," you say, but don't push any further than that.

"It's possible."

You have a feeling that he'll end the interview soon if you stay on this subject, so you move on.

"And what about your situation here? Do you think you belong in prison?"

"Sure," he says, but his tone implies he doesn't actually care.

"So you feel guilty after all? Or rather, regardless of whether you think what you did was right, you understand that there needs to be punishment," you correct, knowing the answer to the first question.

"When you break the law, you're typically punished for it, yes. I understood that before, during, and after the fact. I came willingly."

You look to Mike for confirmation. He shrugs and nods. You take that to mean, "What are you asking me for? I wasn't there for the arrest."

"You came willingly. To what... level, exactly? Did you hold your hands up in surrender, did you sit down and wait for them to do their job..?"

"I stood there as they arrested me. I did nothing about it."

"What expression were you wearing? Did you look shocked? Um... crazed, for lack of a better word? Somber?"

He silently points to his face. It's just a normal smile. You jot that down.

"I don't see how these "did breaking the law make you feel good" questions are doing anything for you," Mike interjects, bemused as usual.

"I didn't ask that," you say quickly, focusing more on your notes than talking for the moment.

"You're the author, but personally, I don't hear a difference," he says before giving up and returning to silence.

"It did," Kimblee says the moment you finish writing.

"... Feel good to break the law?" you confirm, readily placing your pen against the paper again.

"The concept? I couldn't care less. But what I did felt good."

You stare at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he means. You settle for just writing down his exact words; you'll figure it out later.

"Killing people, you mean," Mike clarifies. His ever present disdain for Kimblee only makes more and more sense.

"Not exactly, though I don't mind the end result. It's causing explosions that brings me more joy than anything."

"Yeah, yeah, you fucking maniac." Mike is certainly getting annoyed now.

"The sound... I haven't heard that wonderful sound in so long," Kimblee laments. Suddenly remembering your first visit, you turn to Mike.

"That bird he made out of the cup- did it ever blow up?" you ask. Mike uncrosses his arms and places his thumbs in his pockets.

"No. Guess he just missed using alchemy at all. God knows how he would have been punished for blowing something up in here."

"It was a present." Kimblee gets your attention again. "You should have taken it home. It could have been a souvenir."

"Yeah, well, you're not making another one," Mike tells him, his tone warning.

Silence consumes the room for a moment and you clear your throat and stand.

"You know what I like in a person?" Kimblee asks rhetorically, causing you to sit back down.

"Not at all, what?" you encourage, staring intently at him.

"Resolve. It makes me wonder exactly how much would have to go wrong before it crumbles. And it's so interesting to watch as it doesn't."

You take note of his words.

"Is that a threat, Kimblee?" Mike starts. "You know, you only get these open space, face to face chats because this lunatic asked for it to be that way."

"Now I'm a lunatic too?" you ask quietly, but you don't take it to heart.

"If you wanna do this from the comfort of your cell, go ahead and try something," he threatens, moving closer to Kimblee now.

"I like people who are unshakable. Not pettily stubborn, but truly... dedicated to their convictions," Kimblee continues, all but ignoring Mike.

You're still writing down what Kimblee said as Mike places his hand on the table, an audible tap resonating from his watch hitting the metal, and tells the two of you to part ways for the day.

You feel good about that interview. Kimblee seemed to be keeping more in line, or at least testing the waters a little less. It's impossible to know, however, how long that will last.


	4. Chapter 4

You jerk awake. Your phone is ringing in the other room. It takes you a moment to figure out what's happening and get reacquainted with the waking world before you're getting up to answer the call, in case it's important.

"Hello..?" You notice your voice is predictably weighed down by sleep, barely managing to make itself heard. You keep the phone on your ear but move the speaker away to clear your throat.

"Yeah, figured you might still be asleep." That voice sounds familiar... "I can't take it anymore. You haven't been around for a while so Kimblee won't stop asking for you. Says he's got something to tell you."

Right, the voice belongs to Mike.

"I don't know how soon I can make it out there; an old friend is in town and I've been showing him around." It's true, but it sounds like a flimsy excuse. "There's no way I can explain where I'm going. Can you put Kimblee on the phone?"

There's a pause and a sigh.

"Alright, hold on."

You take this moment to sit on the couch next to the phone. You're still so tired.

"Son of a bitch says no. He needs to tell you in person. If this is a love confession or something, I'm negotiating for a death sentence like he should have gotten to begin with."

Mike honestly sounds serious and it makes you huff a tired laugh.

"I'll uh... I'll see if I can go in like a week," you say. Better not to make any promises.

"Alright, I'll tell him to pipe down until then."

You expect a more formal goodbye, but Mike already hung up. That's fine with you; you're so tired you don't bother going back to your room. You just fall asleep there on the couch.

* * *

A week and change after the phone call, you had called the prison to schedule a visit. It was more like simply announcing at this point, though. It's not as if Kimblee has anything else to do.

Mike is waiting for you outside the building this time. He guides you in, making no attempt at small talk but not appearing particularly inhospitable- to your understanding of him, at least.

When you reach the usual meeting room, Kimblee is facing the door this time. He takes a slight bit longer than usual to smile at you before turning around and waiting for you to come to him. You make your way over at a normal pace but feel slightly tense all of a sudden and when you sit it's quite slowly.

"Can I speak to you in private?" he asks, looking around at all the guards.

There's a long pause and you offer a delayed, surprised nod. Mike starts ushering the guards out of the room for the moment but remains in his usual place just behind the door.

"That means you too, Mr. Jailer," Kimblee calls to him. Mike fidgets for a second, seemingly deciding whether or not he'll oblige, before audibly sighing and leaving as requested.

"In all honesty," Kimblee starts, "I'd love to see his reaction. I just know I won't be able to get a fully formed sentence out before he starts yelling. You know how he is."

You actually do understand that.

"You remember what we talked about last time?"

"A few things..." You pull out your notes and flip through them.

"You really can't guess just based on the situation what topic this would be about?" he asks, unamused. More so than you've ever heard him, in fact.

Your eyes indeed freeze on what is unmistakably the correct subject: the Philosopher's Stone. You look back up at him, eyes slightly wider than usual.

"You've got it." He's smiling again now.

"What about it, exactly?"

"You've got your notepad there. Get ready to write down some coordinates," he says, casual as can be.

You're a little stunned but you nod. His face looks more serious as he lists off specific details- location, landmarks, even directions from here. His memory is even more impressive than you thought. When he finishes talking, you stare down at your notes.

"Who- who do I give this to?"

Kimblee shrugs, slow and nonchalant, and his eyes are closed and his smile returns once more.

"You know what? Give it to Mike, he'll figure it out. Probably hand it off to someone else who was in the war."

"So the stone is still in Ishval..."

"Didn't have much time to hide it," Kimblee points out.

You're not exactly sure what to do now. This information in your hand feels extraordinarily powerful.

"No interview today," he says, standing. "You'll have to come back some other time."

As you leave the room, you slowly, carefully tear off the note with the coordinates on it and hand it to Mike.

"Done already?" he just got done asking as you give him the paper. "What's this?"

"The, uh..." It's incredible- maybe even a little too heavy to say. "The location of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Holy shit," he breathes, both hands clutching the note now.

"Guess I got something useful out of him after all," you say, not at all intending to boast but realizing how it sounds. Mike scoffs.

"Yeah, I'll say. The bastard probably figured he can't go back and get it anyway, so he might as well give it up. This is incredible..."

"My thoughts exactly," you murmur. Your mind has been nearly entirely drowned in the sentiment, after all.

"Hey, uh... You know, come back for your interviews or whatever but- I'll let you know as soon as anything happens with this, alright?"

You look at him like you've been snapped out of a reverie. You whisper a "yeah" and nod.

At home and on the ride there, you can't stop thinking about the Stone. What amazing things could be accomplished with it once the military got ahold of it? Hopefully they would relent and allow it to be used for good. But your brain finally catches up with your gut as you realize it'll probably only be used for war again. You wonder if this was another one of Kimblee's tests.

You wonder if you've ever passed any of his tests.


	5. Chapter 5

"Yeah, no news on the Stone yet," Mike says, still seeming a little excited about it. "Not sure if they've even reached the place, they could still be preparing for the trip."

"Fair point," you say, not having expected the Stone to have been discovered yet anyway.

"I guess Kimblee's got a thing for you after all," Mike jokes- or doesn't- "so if you wanna be alone again... I just don't recommend taking the cuffs off, is all."

"Alone is fine," you say, "but I think the cuffs can go again."

He's walking in front of you, but you're pretty sure he just rolled his eyes.

Apparently, he'd either foreseen this or finally decided it was an unnecessary precaution, because the walls aren't lined with guards this time. Mike enters with you, but only to uncuff Kimblee. He gives you a hesitant, maybe cautionary glance before leaving.

"Well, now, aren't you appreciative?" he purrs, rubbing his wrists. He keeps them far apart while he can, probably just for the sake of it.

"Why did you tell me where the Stone is?" you come right out and ask.

He's silent for a bit. You've noticed over the course of these interviews that the way he talks is calm, slow, and particular. These pauses are probably so he can choose his words carefully; the only thing that worries you is the question of why he feels the need to be so careful.

"Hmm... I won't answer that one," he finally says. You exhale the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Alright, moving on, then..." You pull out your notepad and look for any questions you still have for him.

"This one is... pretty personal," you warn, watching his brow raise.

"Aren't they all?"

"... Good point," you concede.

Still, you feel the need to give both yourself and Kimblee a second to brace yourselves.

"So what about your love life?"

His eyes widen and a smile slowly creeps across his face before he laughs, leaning forward a bit from it.

"Just to be clear, I'm only asking about your past," you attempt to clarify, "for- educational purposes."

"Oh, there's nothing to tell," he says, laughter still in his voice.

"Nothing? You don't mean you're..."

"No, it's just not interesting. Very normal, in fact. People were interested in me because of my power- whether it was alchemical or my position in the military. Among other reasons I'm sure, but..." he trails off.

"No bad breakups to speak of?" you prompt, but he just shakes his head.

"A lot of one night stands. As I've mentioned before, I don't typically get attached to people."

"But you've never held a girlfriend or anything? Not even for... maybe a month?"

He seems disinterested now, if he wasn't already.

"Right then. No relationships to speak of," you say, writing that down.

"Word about our little sessions has gotten around since quite some time ago," he informs you. You mentally beg him not to bring up Mike's accusations of there being something between the two of you.

"I thought you said you would be studying more than just me?" he says instead, and your sigh gets to be one of relief.

"Well... one at a time, I figure," you say, though you haven't actually looked into anyone else yet.

"I suppose that makes sense."

He's got one arm splayed across the table while his other hand is on his chin; a pose that's often impossible for him. You wonder how much he really appreciates these interviews.

"What about you?" he asks, moving his hands to rest them both on his lap now.

"My love life?"

You remember Mike advising you not to name loved ones and decide against going into your history.

"Not... too different."

His laugh is short and breathy.

"Really? People sleep with you because you're a major and a state alchemist?"

"Alright, maybe not that similar," you admit with ease.

"Have you ever considered joining the military?" he asks, almost out of the blue.

"You think I'd, uh... fit the job?" You're entirely confused.

"Not at all. I rather advise against it, for you," he says, and he's looking serious again. It's times- or expressions, really- like these that you feel there's a major disconnect between his expression and his actual appearance. It crosses your mind that Kimblee doesn't make a good prisoner.

"Yeah, a desk job might be manageable. Anything else, not so much."

"It's always interesting, getting to know someone who doesn't have the nerve to kill."

His expression didn't change for that.

"That is... murderer talk," you tell him, though your tone is light. He laughs again and it feels like a victory.

"I think that's enough for today," you then say, standing. He nods for you to leave and remains seated until you're walking out. You look over your shoulder to see him stretching his arms, enjoying the freedom while he can.

A fleeting thought visits you as you try to fall asleep that night. Was Kimblee in prison, somehow avoiding a death sentence, for killing his superiors? Or were they keeping him there until he revealed the location of the Stone? His revealing its location to you could easily mean either freedom or death for him.

You fall asleep too quickly to contemplate it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the description of the way kimblee talks is specifically intended for the japanese dub of brotherhood


	6. Chapter 6

Mike calls you again, significantly more annoyed than last time.

"The Stone isn't there," he says. "It never was."

* * *

"You insist I lied to you, but did I ever specifically mention the Stone?"

"... You heavily implied it," you remind, incredulous.

"I gave you the coordinates to where I last used it. Nothing more, nothing less."

His grin is cocky now; you can sense Mike has been itching to punch him since he found out. But now you're even more convinced that he only told you as a test.

"Why did you give me that location, letting me believe the Stone was there?"

There's a slight pause.

"I wanna hear your take on it," he answers, and now you see what he thinks of you. You're just there to entertain him.

"The way I see it, there could have been several reasons. The first that came to mind- after the fact, unfortunately- is that you were testing me. You essentially told me the military secretly crafted the Stone as a weapon for war, and you wanted to see if I would rather retrieve it myself to be used for good."

He raises his eyebrows, amused and perhaps a little impressed. It's hard not to think he's being condescending.

"Or, this could have been another unnecessary lie, told just for fun," you finish, your annoyance already having petered out somehow. You guess no harm was really done, he just made you waste the military's time while also making you look like a fool for believing him. Alright, maybe some harm was done.

"Embarrassment is fleeting," he says, as if he can see your thoughts in your eyes. Then he's making a face at you. "Forgive me?"

His smile has never looked innocent, and now is no different. He's probably just teasing you again; the result of a man with a life sentence and no visitors but one naive, overinvested author.

You're more disappointed in yourself than angry at him now.

"Would you like to ask me some questions? Will that cheer you up?" he taunts- or maybe he's being genuine, you don't know. You sit down and take your notepad out, your attitude and inhibitions changing entirely.

"Did you ever torture animals when you were younger?" you ask almost too suddenly. He's not caught off guard, of course. When is he ever?

"Let's see... When I was first learning alchemy, I killed a squirrel I'd caught. That's about it on the animal cruelty front."

"Was your family ever cruel to you, before or after you started using alchemy?"

"Getting right into it, hm?" Kimblee laughs softly. "At first, they were overjoyed. Once they realized what my field of interest was, less so. Our relationship went downhill from there."

"How did they react to the squirrel?"

"They didn't know about the squirrel."

"How do you think they would have reacted?"

"Would've shunned me faster, no doubt."

"Is that how you feel? Shunned?" you ask, though any sympathy you might have felt asking questions like that before is gone. For now, at least. It only frustrates you even more, knowing this mood will inevitably just pass.

"Hm..."

He doesn't answer that one, so you flip to the next page.

"May I have a moment to think before you-"

"What about teachers? Did they notice disturbed behavior in you and shun you in similar ways?"

"Disturbed? Let's calm down."

"It's what you are."

You meet his gaze for the first time in a good few minutes. His usual smile is long gone, but he doesn't actually look annoyed like you would have expected.

"I didn't feel shunned, I felt... misunderstood, I suppose. I hadn't hurt anyone, so there was no reason to disapprove so strongly."

"Then you moved on to use the same alchemy they disapproved of in a war."

Kimblee is obviously unimpressed by your point.

"Do you know how many people fought in the Ishvalan war? How many state alchemists? The only thing I did that could be construed as _wrong_  is kill my superiors."

"You don't think war is wrong?"

"War is war," he says. You write that down, in quotation marks.

"Have you ever had a regret in your life?" you ask, and somehow it feels like you're changing the subject.

He hums thoughtfully.

"No," he decides on. "Not really."

You write a quick note and stand up, intending to leave.

"But let me tell you something," he says to stop you. "Hastiness and rash decisions are what lead to regret. And you're not quite as immune as I am, are you?"

He's not looking at you- you've already walked past him- but you turn to face him anyway. You're not sure what you can say to deescalate here.

"I'll be back," you settle on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to say that i acknowledge the fact that kimblee is usually a pretty honest guy, i intended his lies to be his way of testing the protagonist as well as the only way for him to have fun in prison, with no plans for freedom. once released, he's very professional in canon because he no longer has nothing to lose from acting however he wants.


	7. Chapter 7

When Mike calls you one last time, you sit in numb shock. Kimblee is being released, and nobody has any idea why.

Your first and strongest thought is that they  _did_ find the Stone where Kimblee had said it was, they just said there was nothing there so they wouldn't have to explain what they were going to use it for.

You did tell Kimblee you would be back, so you promptly head for the prison.

When you see Kimblee this time, he looks... enormously different than you're used to. Like an entirely different person- save those telltale yellow eyes. He's clean shaven now that he's had the chance, his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail under a hat. He's wearing a three-piece suit, which you think is certainly overkill for the recent weather, but at least it's white. There's also a faint scent of cologne, even from this distance.

He smiles at you and it's completely different from before. You suppose his social mask is now on, having lost most if not all ferality. He's standing up straight- tall- now, no longer a prisoner in any sense, and he looks nothing if not dignified.

"I appreciate the time we've spent together," he tells you. "Now that I'm free, perhaps I'll set aside the time to read some of your books."

"Alright, if you wanna talk, you can do it once you're out of here," Mike interjects. "Just have one final formality to take care of in about fifteen minutes."

"Well?" Kimblee turns to you. "Will you keep me company?"

You stare at him for a moment. He closes his eyes and smiles and _holy shit_ , he _can_  feign innocence.

"Actually... uh, I'm... I'll... I'll wait outside," you stutter, unsure of how to get away from him. He seems amused by your behavior and allows you to turn and leave without putting up a fight.

You have no idea why you told him you'd wait for him. Now that you have, you might as well. A car seems to be waiting outside the walls of the prison; probably for Kimblee.

While you're waiting, you wonder if he really considers you his friend. If he'll expect to keep in touch now that he has the means to do so. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, primarily passed with nothing but faint static in your mind for one reason or another, go by before you hear anything.

Mike is screaming, begging Kimblee to take something off of him. Then the panicking stops, but you hear no explosion. Kimblee says something you don't quite catch all of in a cheerful tone. You look through the gate and extrapolate that Kimblee must have played some sort of prank on Mike. Unfortunately, looking in like that allows Kimblee to see you.

"You're still here," he notes. "Good. I have something to show you."

"If you'll have to drive me there-"

"No, we're not going anywhere. Unless you'd like to come with me, that is."

You have a feeling he's only offering because he knows you'll refuse.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asks, a new, mischievous smile on his face. Or rather, it's... like he won.

With a hand steadying his hat, he leans forward a little and opens his mouth. You see the sunlight glint off something on his tongue- he's had the Philosopher's Stone the entire time.

He swallows it again and you definitely know what that smile means now. He walks past you and climbs into the car that's been waiting for him without another word, leaving you in wide-eyed disbelief.

He has the Stone. You don't write that down. He asked if you could keep a secret, and there is absolutely no reason why you should oblige.

But the information "dies" there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was very fun to write..! i'm glad i went for it, i really thought it would live and die without ever leaving my mind for a while there.
> 
> additionally, while i did stay away from romance in this fic, i need everyone to know that i am in FACT a huge gay slut for kimblee. see that philosopher's stone? god i wish that were me.
> 
> anyway thanks for reading..!


End file.
